


Christmas Catalyst

by CannibalKats



Series: Catalyst [7]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Yoosung takes Saeran home for the holiday





	Christmas Catalyst

Saeran rolls over, arm outstretched to collect Yoosung from where he’d rolled away during the night and pull him closer.  It’s barely daylight and if he goes by previous experience Yoosung’s family won’t begin to wake for another half hour.  Except his arm flops down loose against the cold mattress, fingers brushing the wall the Yoosung’s bed is snug against.

He grudgingly opens his eyes, it’s Christmas morning and Saeran doesn’t really know what to expect.  The last two years had been the first time he’d celebrated in any way and it had just been he and Saeyoung, sitting on the old sofa in his brother’s bunker eating take out and opening small gifts from one another.  This year however Yoosung’s family had insisted he bring his boyfriend to their holiday Celebration.

What did functional families even do?

Well for one they’d attended Christmas Service the night before.  Saeran had helped Yoosung’s sister and her children bake cookies for Santa earlier in the day and he and Yoosung had helped them set out letters and cookies, before bed.  They’d even each taken a child freshly bathed and stuffed into furry new PJs and tucked them into bed while Yoosung’s Mother and Sister had stolen away to wrap the last of the presents.

They’d been invited to play Santa but Yoosung had declined, and used Saeran as an excuse.  He didn’t mind, especially not snuggled close in bed when Yoosung had whispered that he liked being just as surprised as his Nieces at what Santa had brought them.

Saeran swings his legs out of the small bed and slips his feet into the slippers his brother had gifted him before they left.  He leaves the room and follows the sound of voices, and dishes, the smell of food and the whiney pitch of little children.

“Uncle Saeran is up,” a small voice trills, “so we can go look now!”

“Not yet,” Yoosung’s mother’s tired voice follows, a little sharper than he’s used to and he stops for a split second out of forgotten habit before his feet start moving again.

In Yoosung’s house frustration wasn’t dangerous. 

Yoosung skids to a stop on sock feet at the bottom of the stairs, his lavender eyes sparkle and he’s smiling wide. “First,” he announces, to both Saeran and the children, “we eat breakfast.”

“I just want to  _ look _ ,” a small voice whines darting out of the attached kitchen and dining room.

Saeran catches the back of a fuzzy PJ shirt and she comes to a Wile E Coyote stop in the hallway.  Yoosung placing two hands firmly on small shoulders and physically turning the whining child back towards the kitchen.  He shoots Saeran a wide smile over his shoulder and he follows.

Yoosung’s father is cooking french toast, his mother is setting the table while his sister fills dishes with already cooked meats and puts them on the table.  Yoosung’s brother in law is wrangling their toddler and Yoosung is trying to get the older girl to help him set syrups and condiments on the table while she argues with him.

Saeran scoops her up, tosses her over his narrow shoulders in a fireman’s carry while she giggles and squeals, the mother’s in the room shaking their heads.  She agrees now to carry the Jams and Syrups that Yoosung has been trying to hand her and Saeran walks her to the table, carrying one at a time.  He leans to the side so she can place each one in the middle of the table while she giggles.

There’s a method, a clear schedule that Yoosung’s mother has set.  They eat, they clean the table, Yoosung’s Father and Brother-in-Law hang back to clean up and Saeran suspects neither one is as excited about this whole holiday thing as the rest of the family.  He considers offering to help but the goofy smile has not left Yoosung’s face all morning so he takes his boyfriend’s outstretched hand and follows him to the living room.  

The kids are in the bathroom with their mother. 

“Mom’s going to take a lot of pictures so Yuna is brushing their hair and washing them up.”

The bathroom sounds like a warzone when they pass.

He follows Yoosung, crawling to the far end of the plush sofa when Yoosung gestures for him to move ahead and tugging his boyfriend tight against him when Yoosung’s follows close behind.  The two of them watching the chaos of the world’s smallest stampede reclined and comfortable.  Yoosung pulls a knit blanket off the back of the sofa and drapes it over them as they squint against camera flashes.  The smile on his face easy, no longer forced when cameras point in their direction.

He alternates between watching the kids, complimenting them on their technique and teasing Yoosung about his bed head, his roots showing. 

“Did you get each other gifts?” Yuna asks, filling a trash bag with torn paper while Yoosung’s mother hands gifts to the adults.

“We opened them with Saeyoung yesterday before we got on the train,” Yoosung smiles as Saeran’s arms tighten around his waist.

Saeran stares at the small packages for Yoosung’s family that Yoosung had insisted he help with.  He worries his lip between his teeth when his mother lifts the one with her name on it.

“That’s from us,” Yoosung chirps, excited.

Jewelry for Yoosung’s Mother and Sister, Saeran had made it himself, wire wrapped pendants and rings.  Saeyoung had made small toys for them to give his nieces.  Saeran had heard Yoosung make a comment and barely had to make the suggestion to his brother.  After that it was gift cards for Yoosung’s father and brother-in-law.

Saeran lays on the couch and watches the chaos, he wears the handmade sweater Yoosung’s mother had given him.  Shrugging out of the old hoodie he’d practically slept in and pulling it on as soon as it was out of the box.  Yoosung beams at him from the floor where he plays with the kids, Saeran holding up his phone to take an embarrassing photo whenever the occasion presents itself.

It’s nice, he thinks, logging into the RFA app to post a picture of Yoosung smeared with cookie mush and frosting looking horrified and amused at the same time.  This family thing.  Smaller than Yoosung’s normal family events, though he knew he would be in for it tomorrow when the entire Kim family descended on them.  

He chats with Zen and Jaehee as the, now clean, cookie offender clambers up to sit on his belly.  She giggles and rocks, tugging at his sweater and talking at him as he smiles over his phone at her.  He snaps a picture of her wide gap toothed grin and sends it on to the chatroom, logs out when jokes turn to he and Yoosung and  _ their _ children.

He watches Yoosung play with his older niece, the toddler on his belly settling down and eventually tucking her head under his chin.  He’s getting used to this, the routine of being with his boyfriend’s family.  He’s getting used to finding himself laying on the comfortable sofa with a kid sleeping on him.

He even thinks, if things were different, if he was different, maybe he might want this for them.  He knows his boyfriend does.  He knows that Yoosung teases him and sneaks pictures and jokes and never says it, never pushes but he wants this for them.  He can see it in the way his eyes soften when he points his phone at them.

He resolves to talk about it one day, to consider it in their distant future.  Maybe if he makes it through school.

Yoosung’s family eats, it’s everything he’d ever seen on TV, down to the kids bargaining over their vegetables and someone’s wine glass being spilled while they reach across the table.  He blushes when he notices Yoosung’s mother wearing the necklace he’d made.  When they’ve finish eating he pulls Yoosung’s hand into his own and holds it tight, watching the wide smile still plastered on his boyfriends face.

No one makes jokes when he goes to bed early.  Yoosung’s mother never lets him help with dishes and he can only nap with a toddler on his chest on the couch so many times before the chatroom’s jokes will seep into the calm of Yoosung’s family.  So he climbs the stairs, he washes his face and he climbs into bed with his phone while he waits for his boyfriend.

He’s only dropped his phone on his face twice when he hears the door to Yoosung’s room open.  He tucks the phone under his pillow and pretends to be asleep while he listens to the boy at the foot of the bed stumble around and mumble under his breath as he gets undressed.  He pretends to be asleep as the mattress dips and Yoosung crawls the length of his body, pressing a soft kiss to his impassive lips.

“I know you’re awake,” he whispers.

Saeran smirks but he doesn’t answer.

“ _ Saeran _ ,” Yoosung whines, collapsing on top of him when he doesn’t respond.

“You’re fucking heavy,” he complains, his smirk graduating to a genuine smile he presses kiss to Yoosung’s hair.

“Don’t be mean,” Yoosung whines, arms wrapping around Saeran’s chest, pressing between Saeran’s body and the mattress.

Saeran groans but he hugs him back, “Thanks,” he grunts.

Yoosung rolls off of Saeran, he tucks himself into his side and throws a leg over Saeran’s, “For what?”

Saeran mumbles and Yoosung chuckles.

“What?” Yoosung asks innocently.  Saeran can feel his cheeks tighten with his smile.

“You’re family is nice, this was nice.  Thanks for not letting me stay home with Saeyoung and have our usually pathetic Christmas.”

“We should have brought him,” Yoosung says softly.

“He wouldn’t have come,” Saeran shrugs.

“We’ll bring him next year,” Yoosung says like it’s a fact.  Like Saeyoung doesn’t have a choice and Saeran knows he doesn’t.

Neither of them have ever been very good at telling Yoosung,  _ No _ .


End file.
